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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342672">The 46th</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scion_of_Olympia/pseuds/Scion_of_Olympia'>Scion_of_Olympia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Excessive Battle Scenes, Mando'a, Similarities to other sci-fi IPs, Slow To Update, unhealthy coping habits</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:13:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scion_of_Olympia/pseuds/Scion_of_Olympia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The 46th Legion, from the earliest battles of the war near the Core, to its closing days in the Outer Rim, had a will of iron. On the final day, before the dark times, before the Empire, their iron rusted, and broke.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Begun the Clone Wars Have</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>46th</b>
</p>
<p>We were the strongest of our brothers. Our will was unbreaking, unyielding to the enemy despite the hardships of war and unending death. Our strength and spirit unbowed, unflinching when faced with the horrors our galaxy could offer. Our ferocity unmatched, our fury akin to old gods of war made manifest, and yet we failed. We failed our brothers when it mattered most. We were the stalwart bastion upon which the enemy would throw themselves and the battering ram that broke the back of the foe. But, for all our strength, our tenacity, our unyielding power and spirit, we were helpless to resist the foe when it mattered.</p>
<p>We were the 46th Legion, and this is our story.</p>
<p>
  <b>Kamino</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>21 BBY</b>
</p>
<p>We stood at attention, in our rows upon rows of brothers, of soldiers armored in white yet to see the horrors of war and experience the maelstrom of emotions that was combat, eager to plunge directly into the thick of it without care for the danger. I stood in front of them, my majors and captains to my left and right, the lieutenants of each company, battalion and regiment stood by their respective units, stiff and exacting.</p>
<p>We were waiting for our General to appear, and after that, we would be under way.</p>
<p>The comm network was silent, all waiting with giddy anticipation and wonder. It was a momentous occasion to be assigned your General. It was the defining moment for every brother in the GAR, it was the moment that you were truly a soldier of the Republic. The prestige of gaining a Jedi General was a thing of envy amongst the GAR, especially amongst brothers still stationed on Kamino. It meant freedom, it meant honor, glory and so much more.</p>
<p>They would see battle, and finally rid themselves of the term 'Shiny' that describes most of the brothers on Kamino, and those assigned to garrison and medical duties. To be shiny is to not be respected by those who were part of the first battle of the war, all legends amongst the cadets and newly graduated classes. Every <em>vod</em> wanted to earn the honor of partaking in battle, and with the war escalating in earnest, there would be plenty of it to come. But for now, every unit that finished training clamored for assignments of Jedi Generals and Commanders.</p>
<p>It was a privilege to be picked amongst the thousand others that waited for their chance, and he and his Legion would not waste it.</p>
<p>His eyes flicked up to the shuttle that appeared from the unending rain and thunderclouds that made up Kamino, the stark red and white coloring made his heart race in anticipation. He briefly thought his armor had a smudge or smear of grease on it somewhere, and his anxiety spiked. Looking improper when meeting their Jedi General for the first time was a terrible first impression, and he was loathe to look improper. A static blip from one of the flanking majors caught his attention.</p>
<p>"<em>Gar're jate, ner vod</em>."</p>
<p>He calmed down after the words of affirmation. His second, a Major named Asher, was always calm and collected, a close confidant, and his batch mate. He was the voice of reason when he became irrationally stubborn when his carefully thought out plans went awry, his foil in a near literal sense. They had been through years upon years of training side by side, and yet he was selected to lead the Legion over Asher, which the Major was quick to assure him he held no jealousy or anger for being passed over for promotion.</p>
<p>He sent a blip of static to his second in thanks, and returned his attention to the shuttle, which was making its landing, landing gear extending and touching down on the steel gray landing pad.</p>
<p>The ramp lowered, and out stepped his Jedi General.</p>
<p>The <em>Jetii</em> was of average height, their head bare save for the topknot at the top, raven black hair bound by a dark brown leather strap. The robes that were of signature to the Jedi Order intermingled with white plastoid armor plates, grieves, vambraces, pauldrons and gauntlets glaring against the light brown of his cloak. An air of calm, almost forced serenity surrounded the General, their cobalt blue eyes flickering from trooper to trooper until resting upon him, the soldier at the fore of his mighty Legion.</p>
<p>The <em>Jetii</em> walked towards him, each step was full of grace, yet twinged with nervousness.</p>
<p>He would snort if the occasion didn't demand his full attention and discipline. If only the Jedi knew how nervous he and his men were.</p>
<p>The General stopped a few feet in front of him, eyes studying him, full of questions and curiosity. Then he suddenly blinked, as if remembering why he was here, and introduced himself.</p>
<p>"My name is Centulis Cadon, Knight of the Jedi Order. It is good to make your acquaintance Commander…?" he trailed off in question.</p>
<p>"Commander Irons, sir."</p>
<p>"Commander Irons," the General said, trying out the name, associating the image before him with the word, then nodding in confirmation. "Yes, well, it is best we get under way. With my arrival comes new orders. We are to depart for the planet Gyndine and wrestle it, and the nearby planets from Separatist Control."</p>
<p>He couldn't believe it. He simply couldn't believe it. A Jedi General and orders to the front all in one day. He almost thought he was dreaming, but the expectant look from his General shook him from his thoughts, and he gave the order to embark upon the Acclamator, the troopers shifting and turning with pinpoint precision, not one was out of step. He beamed with pride behind his helmet, and he knew his officers were doing the same.</p>
<p>It was the perfect day, their one and only, for the rest of the war.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mando'a translations</p><p>Gar're jate - You're good<br/>ner'vod - My Brother<br/>vod - brother, reference to another clone trooper by a trooper<br/>Jetii - Jedi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. First Impressions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>First Impressions</strong>
</p>
<p>The Acclamators that carried the 46th Legion exited Hyperspace near the planet Gyndine, a gateway to a section of Separatist space too close for comfort for GAR high command. Commander Irons stood in the bridge of the lead Acclamator, staring at the planet through the transparisteel viewports, naval personnel and troopers rushed about him, prepping for planetary invasion. It was his first actual combat assignment, and it had him nervous beyond belief, despite the years upon years of training simulations designed for a variety of combat situations, not to mention the additional training to become a commander, earning him the privilege of wearing the kama and pauldron that denoted <em>vode</em> of higher ranks or specialties.</p>
<p>But combat sims and the actual thing were two completely different animals, and from the stories told by the older <em>vode</em> who actually experienced battle, it was a nightmare. Charging straight into enemy fire, heedless of the amount of droids, following their generals across large, open areas, brothers being cut down by the hundreds, all the while trying to keep up with the <em>Jetii</em> who led them, who were leaping and bounding across the distance with little to no effort, practically bulldozing into the enemy lines, their <em>jetii'kad</em> ripping through hundreds of droids as if they were made of paper, regardless of the casualties. A high blood price for victory. All unnecessary.</p>
<p>He dismissed such thoughts from his head. It wouldn't do for him to not trust his General to properly lead them into battle. It would only encourage dissent, and in war, that was unacceptable from soldiers, especially during an ongoing campaign. Order and structure would break down, men wouldn't follow orders, nothing would be done, and the enemy would crush them while they argued and disobeyed orders. He wouldn't let that happen. He wouldn't tarnish their first combat deployment with insurrection and mutiny, and sully their record for the rest of the war.</p>
<p>He turned back towards the holo-table as the doors slid open, revealing his General walking towards him.</p>
<p>"Atten-<em>tion</em>!"</p>
<p>Every naval personnel and trooper snapped to attention, stiff and exacting, turned towards their General, who looked startled and bewildered at the display. Then, a look of remembrance graced his features, and he looked around once more.</p>
<p>"As you were…?" he trailed off, unsure when giving the command.</p>
<p>As one, the entirety of the bridge resumed their duties as if nothing had ever happened, which bewildered the Jedi even more. He sighed. It was too much for him at times, and resolved to try and get used to all this new customs and courtesies mess he got himself into when volunteering to lead a Republic unit into battle. He made his way to his Commander's side, and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the planet.</p>
<p>"General, we are ready to begin our briefing for the assault on Gyndine."</p>
<p>The <em>jetii</em> gestured for him to lead the way, and they went towards the holo-table, the admirals of the other Acclamators attending the briefing via hologram. Major Asher stood to the side, his arms behind his back as he stood in parade rest while he waited for the briefing to begin.</p>
<p>Commander Irons stood at the front, facing the doors at the entrance to the bridge, his General to his left, and Major Asher to his right as he gazed at the holo-table. He turned towards Asher, nodding, and the major began the briefing, bringing up a hologram of the planet they were about to assault.</p>
<p>"The planet Gyndine, a gateway planet into the rest of Separatist space in this sector, is a Seppie fortress. All major settlements across the planet are fortified with heavy artillery, anti-air cannons, heavy weapons emplacements, and fortifications that stretch a klick out from the settlements themselves. Their strategy, as blatantly obvious as it can be, is to bleed us dry as we try to take control of the planet, making us pay for every inch of ground we win with thousands of dead."</p>
<p>Commander Irons hums in discontent, already disliking this operation. A Legion, while powerful, couldn't sustain the casualties these fortifications demanded of them to secure. There must be another way.</p>
<p>As if he were reading his thoughts, Asher pressed a few buttons on the holo-table, highlighting a few areas on the planet in bright red. Upon zooming in on one of the highlighted areas, it reveals a structure, humming with electricity, arcs of energy leaping to and fro. His eyes widened in realization. Power Generators.</p>
<p>"However, there is another way to take the fortresses. Each one requires massive energy output to sustain all the hardware the seppies have waiting for us, all connected to a massive power generator. If we take out those generators, we can deprive the enemy of much of their hardware, leaving us with only the droids to mop up as we move in."</p>
<p>A sound of concern came from his General, and he subtly turned towards the <em>jetii</em>.</p>
<p>"This plan only works if we can get our ground forces onto the planet itself, and as you said, these settlements have anti-air cannons that we don't know the capabilities of. We would have to land far away from any Separatist stronghold, and establish a base of operations."</p>
<p>Major Asher nodded in agreement.</p>
<p>"Yes, General, we would. There are two areas on the planet with enough space for our Acclamators to land and allow us to begin our operation," he responded, pressing more buttons on the holo-table.</p>
<p>The focus shifted from the settlements and the power generators to two highlighted areas. One was a vast plain, wide and open, with no natural cover to speak of. Commander Irons, if he was sure and more often than not he was, estimated that all three Acclamators in the fleet would be able to land without issue. He had a problem with this. The lack of cover was disconcerting. It allowed for the entirety of the 46th Legion to be assembled in short order, but it also allowed enemy armor and artillery a clear line of sight on them, and they would be torn apart with ease. The only way he could see this with any potential is if they could somehow build fortifications to house the Legion in its entirety, all of its assets, heavy armor, artillery, all the while protecting it from enemy assault. It would need to be powerful and sturdy. He initially dismissed it, it would waste valuable time, time the enemy could use to their advantage. He would only take this place if there was no other option.</p>
<p>The second location was a bit better. It was an open stretch of ground, with large, rolling hills to their north and south, and to the west was a sheer mountain face, with the only way in being a flat, open stretch of grassland to the east. The problem with this location was that there was only enough space for one Acclamator to land at a time, which would draw unwanted attention and leave them vulnerable to a full frontal assault by the enemy. A single Acclamator could hold up to 16,000 troopers, but there was also the walkers, the laats, the tons upon tons of equipment, an entire pre-fabricated base, the artillery, and so much more than needed to be unloaded for them to truly begin reclaiming this world for the Republic. His eyebrows scrunched as he frowned behind his helmet.</p>
<p>He glanced at his General, noticing the slight frown on his face as he thought.</p>
<p>"Our mission is to reunite the galaxy as efficiently as possible. We must not be rash when approaching such a task. As such, we must use what resources we are provided only when needed. We cannot risk massive casualties in full frontal assaults and risky maneuvers. We will take the second area of interest. Prep the Acclamators for landing, and scramble all aerial assets to cover our landing."</p>
<p>He's very cautious, unwilling to take risks. Thorough and knows his stuff, despite being deficient in customs and courtesies. With some experience, and training, his General could be the best of them all. He knows it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mando'a translations</p>
<p>vode - reference to the entirety of the clones or a specific set of clones<br/>jetii - jedi<br/>jetii'kad - Lightsaber (Literal: Jedi's Sabre)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Divergent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Commander Irons steadied himself as the LAATs began to disembark from the Acclamator, the craft jostling the armored soldiers within, the minute clacks of plastoid armor pieces brushing against one another disturbed whatever calm he had been trying to achieve. He turned to look at the men that stood around him, the glaringly white armor plates reminding him of the fact that they were still inexperienced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would personally lead the push to ensure the landing zone was under Republic control. Four LAATs would follow him down to the planet surface as the Acclamators remained in orbit. Major Asher would remain on the lead Acclamator to ensure that overall operations would proceed without issue. He missed his company. When Asher was around, he could rest knowing that a brother he trusted was watching his back. Not that he didn’t trust the men under his command, but he preferred his batchmate to any other. He looked around, the T-shaped visors of his men gave him nothing in terms of emotions, but he didn’t need to see their faces to read them. The minute twitches of nervous energy, the shifting of weight from one foot to another, the subtle checking of their weapons despite being thoroughly checked before they disembarked, the trigger fingers clenching and unclenching. They were as disquieted as he was, as only new soldiers could be when facing the unknown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A nervous huff to his left drew his attention. It was a lieutenant, the blue markers of his armor setting him apart from the others, as the yellow on his own armor marked him out from the rest of the officers. He was anxious, more so than the rank and file that surrounded him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your name, lieutenant?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His question startled the young officer, if the subtle jump was anything to go by, but the lieutenant quickly gathered himself into a presentable front.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“CL- 4295, Blix, sir,” he reported.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blix, short, but has impact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lieutenant subtly beamed at the praise, glad to be noticed in a fair light by his CO.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will not lie to you, we are in a combat zone, and we are all facing danger at all times. Trust in your training, your skills, and your </span>
  <em>
    <span>vode</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and you will come out the other side intact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lieutenant’s mood dimmed a bit, but a steely resolve began to build within him, emboldened by his CO’s candor and sound advice. He would not fail him or the men under his command. He would do his duty and then some. For the Republic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir, I won’t let you down!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you won’t,” Commander Irons said to the officer, before raising his voice to the other troopers. “Stay sharp, watch each others’ backs, and we’ll turn those droids into scrap metal!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oya!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cacophony of voices that greeted his ears filled him with pride.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Commander, we're about to make planetfall. No anti-air flak to speak of. ETA 60 seconds," the pilot reported.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Copy that," he acknowledged. "Everyone, ready up, we're landing in 60!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The LAAT filled with the sounds of blasters being readied and last minute equipment checks. The cabin dimmed, a red light being the only form of illumination. The shadows in the cabin lengthened, enhancing the sharp angles of their armor and the menacing visage their visors created. Moments before, they were nervous, almost unsure, akin to cadets going to the range and being handed a blaster for the first time. Now, they were steadfast, resolve strengthening and their will turning to iron, unbreaking, unyielding. Now, they were the war machines they all knew they were, weapons created to fight a near limitless foe, and they were ready.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Red light, standby."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence was deafening, nobody dared to break it. Suddenly the transport rocked back and forth, finally touching ground. The light flicked from red to green, and the side doors swung open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Green light! Go go go!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone rushed out, forming a semi-circle around the transport, weapons drawn, kneeling down. Commander Irons had his carbine in hand, aiming at the hills to their south, waiting for the hail of red blaster bolts to streak their way. His eyes glanced to his left and to his right, looking for any tell tale signs of enemy contact. All he saw were the white armored figures of his men.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All units, status report.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A beat of silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No hostiles in the area sir!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing here sir!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Area is free of hostile forces sir!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A silent sigh of relief left him, and he ordered the men to set up a defensive perimeter. The LAATs lifted off soon after, returning to the Acclamator. He activated his holo-projector, bringing up Major Asher.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Major, the landing zone is secure, begin Acclamator landing sequence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes commander. Beginning landing sequence. See you down there </span>
  <em>
    <span>vod</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded in affirmation and the transmission cut. He turned to watch the Acclamator slowly descend from orbit, the landing gear extending and touching the ground, and the moment the massive landing ramp lowered. He watched as the battalions of troopers, accompanied by walkers exited the troop transport, the sight of so many soldiers gave him confidence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Commander, a word!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to the voice in question. It was his General, walking towards him with two troopers in tow. He nearly snapped to attention, genetic instinct and years of training compelling him to stand at attention and salute his superior, but the condition of a combat zone negated such procedures. It would paint a target on his general, if his different appearance didn’t make it obvious, and he would be remiss in his duty to protect his General.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes General?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our aerial assets have detected no incoming enemy forces. Odd, don’t you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was odd, when looking at it from an invader’s point of view. When defending, it is usually best to dislodge the invading force from their beach head before they can land whatever reinforcements they had, but in this instance, the landing was unmolested, and operations look to continue moving along smoothly. Perhaps the higher echelons of Separatist command are negligent of the disadvantage that allowing invaders to create a beachhead is. The thought of them not having the manpower and assets to repel an invasion such as this was instantly dismissed. The droid army is fearsome due to its vast, innumerable hosts of war machines, the unending tide of metal that crushes all who oppose them with sheer numbers alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It could be that the Separatists are so confident in their fortifications that they believe they are enough to hold back the Republic, or that the sheer numbers of droids under their command will be able to turn the tide of whatever battle they find themselves in. Whatever the reason, they were able to land the vanguard without issue, and it looks to be the same result for the rest of the Legion. He would not waste such an advantage, and he would make them pay for giving them such a boon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, General. It is somewhat odd, but it is ultimately beneficial for our efforts. We will have the pre-fabricated base up and running within three hours, sir. The walkers will join those at the defensive perimeter until this is done, and our artillery cannons will be planetside when the second Acclamator lands,” he reports.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The General nods at this, liking what he is hearing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“General, if I may,” he began. When the </span>
  <em>
    <span>jetii </span>
  </em>
  <span>nodded, he continued. “I suggest that the Acclamators not currently in use orbit near our position. We could use their turbolasers in precise orbital strikes against whatever force the Seppies send against us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A look of thought graced the General’s features, eyebrows furrowed. A second passed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“While it would provide us with a safe means of advancing, it would leave our operations in space vulnerable to enemy counter attack. They will remain in orbit and focus on repelling any Separatist forces that enter the system. We will have to do without their turbolasers, but for the time being, we can still use their fighters to provide us aerial superiority and long range reconnaissance, as well as close air support should we need it,” he decided.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ok, not what Commander Irons was hoping for, but better than him having them cease all planetary operations altogether. Fine, he could work with that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes General.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll contact the Admiral and appraise him of the situation,” the General stated, leaving with the two troopers in tow, headed towards the newly constructed holo-table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Commander!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned towards the voice, and he couldn’t help the smile forming. Major Asher was walking towards him, arm waving. The commander and major clasped each other’s forearms in greeting, both glad to see the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was wondering when you would be planetside, thought you’d get comfortable being on the bridge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sound of mock disgust left Asher. “Me, stuck in a stuffy bridge, staring at the boring stars while you get all the fun? Never.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two began walking towards the defensive perimeter, stopping next to an AT-TE, Asher leaning against one of the legs, arms crossed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any word on ground operations yet from the General?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, he’s talking to the Admiral now, relaying orders and the like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A intrigued tilt of the helmet urged him to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suggested that we use the Acclamators’ turbolasers in precise orbital bombardment of any attacking force, and that they should remain near our position,” he began.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A sound tactic, however I sense that the General didn’t agree?” Asher asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The General thought it best to leave them in high orbit incase of Seppie reinforcements. However, we will still be receiving air support from the fighters in the meantime,” he finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm. Your plan was solid. It would give us an overwhelming advantage when we fight the clankers, and would minimize the casualties we’ll receive overall,” Asher began. “But, I do see the logic in the General’s plan. We would be vulnerable to Seppie reinforcements if they do come, plus we are still receiving air cover,” he finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what do you think of it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What did he think? What kind of question is that? It didn't make sense, but he got the feeling Asher was trying to learn something from him, looking for something specific based on his response. He didn't know what, but he decided to be honest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I feel as if the General is not utilizing all the assets at his disposal to the fullest. He deems the potential of orbital superiority as an avenue to our defeat, and places what could be turning points in the campaign to the side, out of the way when they could be used to minimize out casualties and ensure our victory. It is an error on his part, but I will follow his lead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Asher nods at this, seeming to find what he was looking for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Glad to see 17's training hasn't been snuffed out by the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kaminii </span>
  </em>
  <span>fish heads. The Republic needs free thinkers," he says cryptically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A beep from his wrist comm caught his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Irons here," he answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Commander, we're about to begin our briefing on our next move."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Copy that, General. I'm on my way. Irons out."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned towards Asher, a somewhat eager stance conveying his excitement. Asher shared his feelings, and the two quickly made their way to the holo-table, finding the General conversing with two captains. He turned towards the pair as they approached, and a small smile greeted the commander.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, everyone is here,” he started, turning towards the holo-table and pressing a few buttons, the table projecting a hologram of a city and the land surrounding it. “Our first priority is to cut off supplies to the Separatists. The nearby city of Aktethus is home to a massive supply depot. If it’s taken out, we estimate that the Separatists will run out of munitions in five months at the earliest, at most a year if they limit their activity to the cities.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irons subtly nodded in approval, liking what he was hearing. Less ammunition means fewer casualties, and if they play their cards right, they could walk into the planetary capital without bloodshed and force a surrender, possibly capturing the Seppie leadership in the process if they hadn’t already fled before then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our strategy, as Major Asher suggested earlier, is to take out the generator powering the city’s defenses and strike at key points along the fortifications, breaking through their defensive lines and carving our way to the supply depot. Once there, we will plant detonite charges in key areas to maximize damage and blow it sky high.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irons shifted slightly, noticing a problem.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“General, if I may,” he asked, and when the Jedi nodded in assent, he continued. “If we were to assault the power generators, we will have the full force of the Separatist city garrison to deal with, not to mention the possible forces placed to guard such a strategically important asset. We need to divert their attention, draw them away from the city so that only the forces guarding the generators remain. Perhaps we launch a false offensive on the city? It would certainly get their attention if nothing else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Asher’s stance, neutral to all but him, was full of curiosity and approval.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Jedi was unreadable, the forced serenity masking his emotions, both positive and negative, which slightly unnerved Irons. He had a knack for reading people, their slight shifts in stance, the minute tensing and releasing of facial muscles in either approval, dismissal, or curiosity. But the <em>Jetii</em>, he was different, and that threw him off. He seemed to be more machine than man at times, but those were few and far in between.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A good plan, Commander. Do you have anyone in mind to lead the distraction?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I volunteer myself, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is unwise. A figure of such importance like yourself being taken out this early could doom the campaign. Perhaps Major Asher? From reading the legion’s record, he is an exemplary officer. Surely he could lead the distraction.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flicker of discomfort, a glance towards his batchmate, who, as before, remained aloof to all but him, was intrigued and excited by the possibility of commanding such an important operation. But doubt gnawed at him like a starving canid upon the bones of an old kill. They were all still inexperienced, and a moment’s pause, a distraction, could cost them hundreds of troopers and the campaign would be set back by months, if not an entire year if they needed new soldiers to replace the massive losses. It had to be him to make that mistake. He couldn’t put that weight on Asher’s shoulders this early in the war.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“While the Major is an exemplary officer, sir, the operation would have more success if I were to lead this part of it. I would like Asher to accompany me, to ensure that operations can be carried out with maximum efficiency.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A subtle apology to his brother, if nothing else. He knew, judging by the signs of disappointment, that Asher would be upset. He hoped that this was an acceptable recompense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hum of thought came from the Jedi, interrupting the commander’s thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, but withdraw when opposition becomes too much. No heroics, no risky strategies. Draw them out as much as possible. I will lead the push to take out the generators. I will contact you when they are down. Do not fully commit to the offensive until then. We will swing around and attack the force from the rear, and we will crush them between us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A chorus of ‘Yes sir!’ met the General, and with that he dismissed them to carry out their orders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An entire company set off with the Jedi to take out the generators, leaving Irons with little over nine thousand troopers to launch the false offensive. He and Asher coordinated the massive amount of men, war machines and munitions. All forty eight AT-TEs were filled to capacity with troopers, leaving the rest to walk  on foot, the walkers keeping pace with the legion. Asher and Irons rode in an AT-TE modified into a pseudo command center, keeping track of everyone’s progress via a holographic map, Irons tracking the small red blip that was his General as it slowly made its way closer to the power generators outside the city walls. His gaze flicked to his chosen battleground. A hilly expanse, interspaced with flat stretches of ground. He already had a plan in mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Asher, I’m placing you in charge of the BARC speeder squadrons.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A inquisitive tilt of the helmet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irons gestured to the battlefield.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The main body of the legion will try to draw them past this hill to the left,” he explained, pointing to a particularly large hill on the map a few hundred meters to the left of a flat stretch. “Once the seppies are in position and locked into place, I’ll give the signal, and the BARC squadrons will move into the droid’s left flank, taking out targets of opportunity with thermal detonators, preferably tanks or other heavy vehicles, but I’ll leave that up to you. Once you’ve exhausted your detonator supply, retreat behind the hill and make your way back to our lines. We’ll hold out until the General comes up from the rear and we’ll smash them between our two forces.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think they’ll take the bait? This entire operation hinges on the assumption that the seppies will believe that this is the real deal, and send out their forces to deal with such.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It should be of no surprise to anyone, you especially, that they know of our landing, of our strength and the importance of what we are attacking. At this early stage in the war, any gains must be won with speed and ferocity, with few, if any casualties. They will more than likely already have thought of how we might take control of the planet while using our resources as efficiently as possible. This city is a key target, vital to their operations on the planet, and will have guarded it accordingly. Thus, any attack, especially of this magnitude, will be regarded as a full scale offensive, and they will have to bear their full strength, otherwise they risk losing an important asset and their chances of driving us off planet with minimal effort. There is no other option for them in this. Either they attack us with their full strength, or lose such a vital asset that they may as well surrender now,” Irons reasoned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A thoughtful hum, and an appreciative nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good thinking, but your thought process is lacking one variable that is key.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stupidity.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irons tilted his helmet slightly, intrigued by what Asher has to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The enemy isn’t immune to outright stupid decisions and actions. They are flawed, as you and I are, and can damn themselves and those around them with ignorance, arrogance, and a plethora of other factors. It is good to assume that the enemy is always going to go for the throat, but keep the thought that they may be incapable of making any intelligent decision in the back of your mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t thought of that. It seemed illogical for an enemy to make the wrong choice when the right answers are so glaringly obvious. However, their landing had been unmolested, and the Separatists could have easily driven them back into the void with an overwhelming counterattack, but they didn’t. Asher may have a point, but he wouldn’t risk the lives of brothers under his command on such an assumption. Besides, the enemy had the machine intelligence of thousands of combat AI behind them. How could they make such mistakes?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for the advice, <em>vod</em>. I’ll keep that in mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A nod of thanks, and they both turned their attention back to the holographic map.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kaminii - Mando'a for Kaminoan<br/>Jetii - Jedi<br/>Vod - Brother/Comrade<br/>Oya - Many meanings, but generally is the equivalent to the Marines 'Hoorah' or Army 'Hooah'. A sign of solidarity, brotherhood and excitement. Lit: 'Lets Hunt!'<br/>Vode - Reference to the entirety of the clones or large group of clones/set of clones.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Contact Front!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Vod - Brother</p>
<p>Oya - Expression of excitement (lit. Let's Hunt!)</p>
<p>Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur! - It's a good day for someone else to die!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Polemarch Pelegon couldn’t believe the reports that the tactical droid gave to him, its droning, emotionless voice, yet at the same time thick with an overbearing feeling of superiority, gave him endless bad news. When his Archon had declared for the Separatist cause, with Count Dooku personally assuring his liege that his rule would be secure from the predations of the corrupt Republic and its endless bureaucracy and listless inaction, he had few, if any reservations. He had been given a brief overview of how the infamous ‘Droid Army’ operated and its strength, and he was won over. Its sheer numerical superiority to the Republic’s clone army, in combination with the logistics to topple a stellar empire in mere weeks, had assured him that whatever came their way would be handled by the unending tide of metal war droids, crushing all that opposed them underneath their metal boots. He could fight a bloody war of attrition without losing a single organic soldier, grinding his enemies into dust by sheer weight of numbers, losses meaning nothing when they are replaced faster than they are destroyed. He wouldn’t admit this to anyone but himself, but he had become overconfident, overestimating the capabilities of the war machines ostensibly under his command, being assigned a cutting edge tactical droid to act as a droid liaison in how the Confederacy of Independent Systems waged war.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>But all the war machines he could ever want counted for nothing when they wouldn’t act, refusing to listen to his orders directly, forcing him, much to his chagrin and mounting frustration, to act through the tactical droid almost exclusively. Even when he acted through the tactical droid, it wasn’t a guarantee that the orders he gave would be followed, or listened to at all. He had a sneaking, and rage inducing suspicion that the tactical droid had the ability to turn off its vocal receptors, practically making the man speak to a wall, before carrying out what it itself thought best, regardless of the tactical, geographical and strategic input he provided. The few times it actually listened to his input and orders would unfailingly be accompanied by complaints and criticism, picking out bits and pieces of his order that it didn’t like and found to be wrong and rudely explaining, loudly, why his orders were wrong or erroneous and why its own logic was correct. He glared at the odious machine from afar, disdain clear for all of his command staff and bodyguards to see. He hated the machine, and recently, he found himself daydreaming of the machine’s destruction. By his own hands preferably, but he would settle for something or someone else carrying out the deed in his place.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>His dreams of destruction would have to wait, however, as he was gaining a clearer and clearer picture of what he was about to face. Three Republic warships, Acclamator-class vessels all, had entered the system and landed their entire invasion force practically unopposed, and now were marching on the munitions depot that was Aktethus in supposed full force. An entire clone legion, 9,000 soldiers, vehicles, artillery guns and aircraft. He sighed in muted frustration and anger. It didn’t make sense.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“It is most probable that the Jedi and their clones will attack Aktethus directly and try to deprive our forces of munitions. I calculate that the Republic will be annihilated if the garrison, aided by elements from other postings, were to meet them in a pitched engagement. Our forces will suffer fifty percent casualties, but the Republic will experience one hundred percent casualties due to their propensity for full frontal assaults and our numerical superiority,” the tactical droid droned. “My logic and calculations are without error, and the Republic will be pushed off Gyndine in a most humiliating fashion.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>He held up a hand, silencing the droid in an instant.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Meeting them in a pitched battle is foolhardy, and a superfluous waste of resources and war material. When they attack Aktethus, they will batter themselves against our defenses, defenses designed to bleed an attacker until they have no strength left to fight, where our forces can mop up whatever survivors are left, and destroy their invasion force utterly once their attack fails. If we draw forces from other postings, they are more vulnerable to attack, and if this isn’t the main attack, but merely a diversionary move, then we leave an opening for our enemy to exploit.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>The droid retorted rapidly, “Impossible. Based upon previous encounters on other war fronts, and factoring in Jedi unorthodoxy, hunkering down within our defensive fortifications leaves us vulnerable to their attacks, which can come from anywhere at any time. The Droid Army is best utilized in frontal assaults and attritional engagements, where numbers play a key factor in whittling down an enemy force until they are ineffective in combat, whereas they are summarily wiped out by our forces. We must meet them in pitched battle, where our numbers will play more of a factor in total victory. Drawing from other postings will only further increase our advantage over the Republic forces, who are constrained in number and combat effectiveness.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“It is by my calculations that this attack is not a diversionary tactic, but their full force, determined to take the most vital city upon the planet. We must show force, and grind them into dust.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Why would they risk their entire force on this one assault? It is folly to even consider such a thing. The Jedi commanding this force is not so foolhardy to commit his entire force on one assault, where the viability of their operations is determined by one, singular battle. Any mass casualties to their forces will drive them to retreat, perhaps even leave the system. No, this isn’t their full force, it can’t be. It must be a trick!” Pelegon insisted.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Your logic is flawed, Polemarch Pelegon. You rely on outdated modes of warfare and outmoded methods of thinking. My superior logic, tactical and strategic AI supersede your inferior organic brain, limited by your experiences exclusively. I am an amalgamation of the best military minds of the Confederacy, and my logic is sound, yours is not,” the tactical droid concluded, arms crossed over its chassis, imitating an organic expression of finality.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>He huffed in frustration, wishing that only it would listen to him!</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“I was placed in overall command of the forces under my liege’s purview. I outrank you, and you are to listen to my commands, especially when the enemy is within range of one of our most important strongholds!”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Yet I am not one of your Archon’s weak, organic subjects. I am property of the Separatist Alliance, and I am to ensure that the goals and aims of the cause are reached, no matter the obstacles. In this instance, when a valuable asset to the Confederacy is at risk, I am not beholden to whatever frivolous command structures that you organics use, and I am free to utilize all forces under my command as I see fit, regardless of your orders.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>That did it. He was finished dealing with this obstinate piece of tin. If he wanted to waste countless war droids on such an obvious trick, then let him. He would try to fill in the gaps left by the droid forces with whatever units he could spare, but it would leave Aktethus extremely vulnerable to a full scale assault. There were simply too few of his own soldiers to guard everything, but by his honor he would try. He hoped that his Archon would forgive him if it all came undone under his tenure.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Know this, tactical droid. You are free to command whatever forces are under the purview of my liege’s ally, but whatever actions you take will be bereft of my soldiers,” he snarled, stalking out of the command center, followed by two of his bodyguards.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Good, your organics would only weaken the integrity of my plans,” the tactical droid snarked, turning towards a holo-table, contacting the droid commanders he had placed in charge of the forces stationed in Aktethus and three nearby strongholds, the holograms of three command droids flickering into existence.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Commanders, I have orders,” he addressed the droids.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Yes sir, what are your orders?” they responded in near unison.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Unit OM-12, your forces will form into battle formations outside the fortifications of Aktethus, and are to await reinforcements and further orders.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>The droid in question nodded, then disappeared, leaving the three other droid commanders.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“OM units 13-15, you are to take your entire garrisons and reinforce unit OM-12, and are to await further orders.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>The three droids nodded and disappeared, the tactical droid bringing up a holographic projection of Aktethus and three kilometers of land in all directions around the city. They watched the large mass of color that represented the forces of the Republic as it slowly moved closer and closer to the bastion, its droid brain practically crowing with victory over the weak, pathetic organics. Let the Polemarch withdraw his fodder. They were ineffective in the type of warfare that the Confederacy waged, and would only hinder the tactical droid’s overall plans. Once he had achieved total victory, and made sure that the impudent organic was made well aware of such tidings, then he would be recognized and given a special designation and be exempt from the standard memory banks wipe for tactical droids. He would gain prestige and prove that he wasn’t a mere tactical droid, but the best of them all. His programming was second to none, and his genius a budding thing, outstripping the best organic commanders. He only needed a chance to prove such facts, and this was the best chance he had.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Fools, all of them. My superior programming will make short work of those feeble organics,” the tactical droid muttered, striding out of the command center towards a transport vehicle awaiting him. He set the destination, Aktethus, and lightly chuckled as he sped towards his greatest triumph.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Republic</b>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
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<p>Commander Irons stared at what was before him through his macrobinoculars in sheer astonishment. Two division’s worth of droids, tanks, transports and other war machines were marching towards his position, guns gleaming and ready for battle. He turned to the troopers to his left and right, spread throughout the makeshift field fortifications and shallow trenches they had created before the enemy forces had arrived, all with the exact same expression of astonishment, and something else.</p>
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<p>Fear.</p>
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<p>Fear of the enemy, of their numbers, their firepower, their show of strength. To shinies like them, like he was in all technicality, it was intimidating, to actually see the overwhelming force arrayed against you, their weapons, their armor, their numbers more than you could ever imagine.</p>
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<p>He had to nip this in the bud, before it could take root in his men and cause them to make mistakes, costly mistakes, ones that have more of a permanent effect than most.</p>
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<p>“Do you see what I see, brothers?” he said, opening a Legion wide comm channel, gaining their attention.</p>
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<p>Before they could respond, he continued, “I see an enemy that is so threatened by our mere presence that they send overwhelming numbers to crush us. They fear us, brothers, fear us as only prey would before a predator, knowing that their death was near. Forgive me, when the time comes, when I order you to destroy them, to waste precious ammunition on their worthless metal bodies, to lay waste to them on the battlefield with ease as they blindly march towards their destruction.</p>
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<p>“You’ve all run the simulations. You know how they fight. They don’t think, they just march, point and fire, and hope for the best. We are soldiers of the Republic! We are the best army this galaxy has ever seen, and we are the best soldiers anyone could ask for. If they want to fling themselves upon our blasters, then let them! We will out think, outfight, and outmaneuver them before they realize what’s happening, and by then it will be too late! We will have already won. We would have bled them dry and ended them before they even touch our lines!</p>
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<p>“<em> Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur! </em>” he finished.</p>
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<p>The men around him had taken heart and raised their voices in a thunderous roar, the rest of the Legion following suit, 9,000 voices in all, shouting their defiance at the foe. He was extremely proud of his men. It would only be proper to follow up such a display with an equally thunderous artillery barrage, and he had 36 guns to accomplish such an undertaking.</p>
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<p>“Captain Jallaxx, this is Irons, do you copy?” he asked, establishing a comm link to the captain in charge of the artillery battery of his Legion.</p>
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<p>“Solid copy, Commander. What are your orders?”</p>
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<p>“Begin creeping barrage.”</p>
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<p>“Yes sir!” the captain acknowledged.</p>
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<p>Commander Irons smirked when the heavy guns began their barrage, the thunderous cracks of the cannonfire sending out shockwaves that thudded against his chest, even from far behind the battlelines, the power of the guns was felt by all within the Legion. The projectiles flew towards their predetermined targets with lightning speed and accuracy. Explosions as large as one of the walkers flung hundreds of droids into the air upon the projectiles reaching their targets, destroying dozens upon impact alone. If the enemy were organics, it would be a slaughter of horrific proportions. Entire sections of the army were reduced to molten slag and scrap metal under the withering fire of the guns, but they marched on undaunted, blind and uncaring to their own losses, only following their programmed orders. The guns would move fifty meters forward every five minutes, allowing for the destruction of more valuable targets than mere droids, repulsor tanks and troop transports engulfed in flames and superheated plasma and torn to pieces as they were hit by the accurate barrage.</p>
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<p>As the enemy army drew closer and closer to his position, drawing near the large hill that hid the BARC speeder squadrons, the droids entered the effective range of the AT-TEs and their main cannons, and a barrage of concentrated fire soon joined the artillery guns in raining down utter destruction upon the foe. The walkers were ordered by Irons to target enemy armor specifically, as the artillery were focused on the large, infantry formations at the fore, and the aim of their gunners was true, destroying tank after tank before the enemy were even in range. But the sheer number of them allowed the droids to advance implacably while under fire, marching around clusters of destroyed droids and the burning hulks of battle tanks and troop transports, and they finally came within effective range of their own guns.</p>
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<p>The repulsor tanks raised their barrels and unleashed a violent salvo of shot towards their position, streaks of red hurtling at them at astounding speeds. Irons hunkered down in one of the shallow trenches, keeping his head down as turf and clouds of dirt rained down around them, the sounds of the impacting rounds muffled by his helmet’s internal systems. His head snapped to the left when he heard screams of agony through the comm channels, and saw with a grief stricken heart one of the walkers taking a direct hit through the transparisteel canopy, killing the pilot instantly in an explosion of fire, the walker crashing to the ground soon after. He pushed his grief to the side and refocused on the battle at hand, peaking over the top of the shallow trench, and seeing that the enemy army had reached the hill. It was time. He ordered the artillery, and the walkers to stop firing, and enacted the next phase of his plan.</p>
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<p>He commed Asher, and gave the order. Not a moment later, the roar of BARC speeder bikes sounded out, and lightning fast movement caught his eye. Three full squadrons of BARC speeders raced out from behind the hill, charging towards the rear of the enemy army. They weaved through the throngs of armored troop transports and tanks, seemingly without engaging the droids. That impression was proven false, as when the BARC speeders disengaged and sped behind the hill once more, explosions engulfed many repulsor tanks and troop transports, depriving the enemy of much of its armor and immediate reinforcements.</p>
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<p>As soon as the speeders were out of the field of fire, he immediately ordered the artillery battery and walkers to open fire on the enemy, a wall of blue plasma greeting the droid forces, laying waste to entire companies of battle droids with ease. It wasn’t enough. The droids kept getting closer and closer, until they finally came within small arms range, and the battlefield became alive with streaks of blue and red.</p>
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<p>He ordered his heavy support squads to take down the Super Battle Droids, utilizing their EWHB-12 repeating blasters to tear through its thick armor, peaking over the top of his trench and firing at the approaching droids, taking down seven with ease before being forced to duck under returning volleys of shot. He turned to his left, and saw with some surprise the same lieutenant from before, his armor scuffed and streaked with dirt, hefting his DC-15 rifle over the trench and destroying droid after droid with pinpoint accuracy, directing the soldiers under his command with skill, their overlapping fields of fire blunting a massed charge of battle droids. Irons made a note to keep an eye on him, a promotion to captain already in the back of his mind.</p>
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<p>A body was flung back into the trenches to his right, slamming against him as it fell. He turned and saw the massive, smoking hole drilled into the center of the helmet. Anger and rage dueled for control within his mind at the sight, and as the two powerful emotions waged war within him, he waged war against the advancing battle droids without mercy. He barked orders into the Legion wide comm channel, coordinating the fields of fire for 9,000 soldiers without error, creating kill zones on an open battlefield so deadly that the droid forces slowly began to be pushed back, torn apart by coordinated volleys of horrifically accurate fire seemingly without end. No droid was safe from his wrath. He saw where they would advance and countered with massive waves of concentrated fire before they even began to make progress.</p>
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<p>“<em> Vod! </em> We’ve made it back, and are dug in on the left flank!” a voice over the comms sounded out. It was Asher, and relief temporarily broke the hold that anger and rage held over him.</p>
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<p>“Good to hear from you, <em> vod! </em> Just hold tight, the General will be back soon! Do what you can to bleed these walking scrap heaps!”</p>
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<p>“<em> Oya! </em>” his batchmate responded.</p>
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<p>He turned his focus back to the battle, his darker emotions taking hold once more, and he resumed his bloody work. It was a long, grueling half hour, and it took nearly all that he had to keep the stalemate, his every order, action and thought was devoted to keeping the droids from advancing any further than they already have. What few moments occurred that he wasn’t barking orders into the Legion comm channel, he was tearing through droids with unerring accuracy. Each shot was on target, not one was wasted. Dozens of battle droids had their processing units torn to bits before they realized where they were being fired upon, and even when they did and began to march his way, they were cut down one by one with unnerving speed. Not a single one droid got within fifty meters of his position, or that of the Legion for that matter.</p>
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<p>It was a costly effort, and he had to shut out the cries of pain and death that came all too often across the comms, noting with increasing rage and grief that an entire company had already been wiped out on the right flank, ordering for another company to fill in the gap on the line. He briefly wondered how many men would have been slaughtered if he had not ordered the field fortifications and shallow trenches to be built, standing on an open field without a shred of cover, charging into the droid lines, but he brushed it aside. Now was not the time to focus on what ifs and what may have been, He had to hold out for the General.</p>
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<p>On a better note, his men were performing impeccably, responding to and carrying out his orders with speed and efficiency. He couldn’t have asked for better soldiers. The officers, the sergeants, even the line infantry were acting with skill and were displaying remarkable discipline under fire, not even a hint of the fear and trepidation he had seen earlier.</p>
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<p>He huffs and aims his carbine, letting loose a salvo of shot, taking down a large squad of droids in seconds. He just hopes that his General gets here in time before it’s too late.</p>
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